


Sign Your Name

by SineadRivka



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pon Farr, Post-Star Trek Beyond, T'hy'la, Tattoos, Vulcan Culture, cultural worldbuilding, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 04:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8149076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka
Summary: It's been a year since Spock's Pon Farr on the Enterprise-A. He hadn't expected to live, hadn't expected to wake up to his Captain stroking his face, love written clearly upon expressive features. A year of self-doubt. A year of fearing that Jim only stayed with him out of an obligation. But upon a scheduled shore-leave, all that changes with one action that his t'hy'la undertook.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is now available in a Chinese Translation [Found Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9417263)! Thank you so much!!!

Spock had been broadsided by his pon farr, not even two months after he and Nyota agreed that they were not as well-matched as they had been after she had graduated. He had expected to die, no potential mate available. Sarek had spoken with him, pleaded with him to return to New Vulcan even to take a temporary mate to help him through his Time. Spock did not know the sound of his father's true desperation until that moment. But he had accepted his fate. He had put order to his assets, and felt the fever come upon him. 

He did not expect to come out of the Plak Tow wrapped around his captain, the marks of his violent mating lining the strong form, the blue eyes tired, full of love that he felt pushed along a bond stronger than anything he had ever felt. Strong hands, bruised and sweet, swept over his skin, curling him close as he wept, fearing that he had ruined what he already shared his captain, his bondmate, his _t'hy'la_. It took weeks, almost three months, before he was convinced that they were better now than they were before. He still didn't believe that he had atoned for his transgressions, though Jim often reassured him that his atonement wasn't necessary. 

And now, one year in almost to the day that they had joined minds and woven the strands of their katra together, the _Enterprise-A_ was docked for resupply and partial overhauls. Shore leave on Yorktown was nothing short of a true vacation. Spock strolled down marketplace stalls, enjoying the busy atmosphere. So many species, so many families . . . Vulcans among them. It was good to see his people. And while they did not smile at him, they recognized him with a sort of warmth that he had not experienced before. 

They congratulated him for his recent bonding, giving him tips of which vendors had the best wares for teas and vegetables. It was their way of finally accepting him as one of their own. He knew the nasty rumors that he would never be fully Vulcan, never be able to bond with another. And yet it was strange that he found himself disinterested in their approval, when he would have eagerly anticipated it out as an adolescent. 

After ordering a large supply of his tea, he began to formulate a dinner plan with fresh ingredients. Jim would never be wholly vegetarian, but he enjoyed the stews, fresh platters, and casseroles that Spock brought with him. 

It was while he was waiting to haggle for some plomeek that the first trickle something not feeling right came through the bond. It was pain . . . of a sort. An ache that occasionally grew sharper and duller without warning. 

He needed to find Jim. _Now._

The search took less than a half hour, the ache growing steadily in intensity. Spock strode into the establishment, right into the room where Jim lay on a table, shirt off and a woman hovering over the lower-right portion of his ribcage. 

The captain grinned broadly. "Hey, sweetheart. I knew you'd find me." 

"What is this, James?" 

"Am I in that much trouble?" 

"It is dependent entirely upon your answer." 

The tattoo artist sat back, letting Spock see what she was working on. The Vulcan's breath caught in his throat and he rested his hand lightly upon Jim's right hip. There, in his own signature, was his full name. Right over where the Vulcan heart would be placed had Jim been born alongside him. 

It was in vibrant green ink that matched the color of his copper blood. 

"Jim," he whispered, his voice cracking over the syllable. 

"I thought you might like it. Sit with me?" 

"Of course." 

As soon as Spock was out of the way, the tattoo artist continued with her work, smiling at the turn of events. "I'm glad that you came, Commander Spock. He was going to try to surprise you, but didn't think he'd be able to keep this a secret." 

"He does not yet possess the level of control to block physical sensations from our bond. I knew the moment you had started." He hesitated, then continued on. "Are you a specialist in Golic script?" 

She pulled back slightly, dipping the old-fashioned tattoo gun into the green ink. "I have worked for most of my career to master several languages of written script. Since 2254, my clientele have been growing after word got out that I was able to tattoo the Golic signatures of their loved ones that they lost in the catastrophe." Leaning back in, she continued on. "And it wasn't just Vulcans. I've had hundreds of people ask for a Vulcan signature. By comparison to humans, it's almost staggering how frequent the requests are, and how many names they wanted done in a session." 

"Did none of your clients explain the cultural significance?" 

"No. Their pain was so clear to me that I could not ask after the first two or three clients. They were unable to answer." 

Jim blinked up at Spock, who suddenly seemed overcome. Reaching two fingers out for a Vulcan kiss, he was pleased when Spock met them. Through the brief contact, he read his husband's emotions and a brief thought. "Vulcans are not only feeling their own pain . . . but they're tied in to this web of consciousness. So this global pain is so deep that it really touches everyone on a level that they can't shield against." He smiled, reaching his hand out for his husband to comfort him. "But I have enough removal from the main body of Vulcans that I'll be able to talk about it." 

She smiled, but didn't continue speaking, waiting for her client to go on. This was the first time that she had been able to work on a human who was bonded to a Vulcan. Being able to understand what service she was providing, the depth of it, was always a missing piece of the puzzle. 

"Before the Reformation, before logic and controlling emotions so that Vulcans weren't controlled by their emotions, clan wars were not only common, but they were the rule. So the whole ‘Vulcans are unemotional’ bullshit is just that. They feel emotions on a depth and with an intensity that we simply can’t comprehend unless you’re bonded to one.” Swallowing, wincing as the tattoo gun hesitated over one of his ribs, Jim focused on the cool hand in his. He could do this. 

“So getting these tattoos is an emotional process?” 

“Yeah. Back in Surak’s time, they would carve the names of their departed into their skin. It was a way to honor the memory of the person. There’s more to it than that, but that’s the only part that I’m allowed to tell you. It’s like . . . sanctioned emotionalism. Controlled outlet of the emotional pain of loss, identifying it and purging it through the physical pain. There were different places on the body where different names would be placed. But over the heart . . . that’s where only one name would be allowed.” 

“The bondmate.” 

“Yes.” 

There was no further talking after that point, until the tattoo was completed and healed, the artist taking her time to make sure that Kirk didn’t scar. It had been hard enough to find the right color that didn’t include any chemicals that the captain could possibly be allergic to. Once finished, she let Jim up, watching quietly as the Vulcan traced reverent fingertips along his own name. He pulled Jim close, burying his face into the smooth chest, strong arms shaking and weak while he took comfort from Jim’s fingers carding through his hair, tracing the back of his neck. 

When he could breathe normally again, Spock tilted his head up. “I want you to sign your name.” His left hand came up, resting over where a human heart would be. “Would you be . . . would you be adverse if I asked for another’s name as well?” 

“Amanda’s?” 

“Yes.” 

“Spock, it’s your body, and you get to choose what you want to do with it. Where would it go?” 

“The mother’s name is along the lower-left ribs, mirroring the heart of their child, watching over them from a distance that is not that far removed from the child’s heart. It is curved, following the lower curl of the ribcage, to show that the mother is flexible without breaking, knowing how to herd the child towards greater things.” 

“That's really poetic and beautiful. Where would the father’s name go?” 

“Along the sternum, a reminder to be bold and never let your chin touch your chest in defeat.” 

“Wow. Intense. Maybe . . . maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to get Dad’s name there.” 

“Only if you want it, and only in your own time, _ashal-veh_.” He took the outstretched marker from the tattoo artist, who had taken their moment together to clean up and sterilize her tools. Taking a moment to center himself, feeling Jim's katra smooth over his own, he held out the marker to his _t'hy'la_. Jim took it with a smile, giving Spock the time he needed to take his shirt off, folding it smoothly over the back of the chair that Jim's own shirt lay haphazardly over. When Jim went to sign over the Vulcan heart, Spock gently took his wrist, redirecting it diagonally upwards over to where the Human heart rested. "Here, Jim." 

Blue eyes almost welled over at the feeling of acceptance that finally, _finally_ came from his bondmate. The first touch of accepting his human half, the emotions and the imprecise nature . . . it felt like the warmth from a fireplace over chilled hands. He took Spock's hand in his own in a Vulcan kiss, fingers weaving together. 

And he signed his name.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sign Your Name (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561212) by [SineadRivka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka)




End file.
